


In the Cold Night

by Emilys_List



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-05
Updated: 2004-03-05
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: I have two images in my mind. Tying his bow tie, looking at the creases in his face, and startled by how regal he seemed. And watching him now, surrounded by doctors and machines that are keeping him alive.





	In the Cold Night

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**In The Cold Night**

**by:** emily’s list

**Pairing(s):** josh/donna  
**Category(s):** general, with touches of romance (not to be confused with romantic touching, which would bump the rating up to TEEN)   
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** sadly, they do not belong to me... it’s a crying shame.  
**Summary:** I have two images in my mind. Tying his bow tie, looking at the creases in his face, and startled by how regal he seemed. And watching him now, surrounded by doctors and machines that are keeping him alive.  


I can’t really hear anything. It’s not that I’ve lost my hearing. I’ve just gotten proficient at tuning people out. 

"Donna, you should really head home. They’ll call when he’s out of surgery." 

"Do you need anything, Donna? Maybe we can go get something to eat." 

"Donna. Are you... okay? Do you want to talk?" 

I want to scream or cry or hurt someone but I can’t really move. Or hear. Or think. 

I have two images in my mind. 

Tying his bow tie, looking at the creases in his face, and startled by how regal he seemed. 

And watching him now, surrounded by doctors and machines that are keeping him alive. 

I can’t cry. 

******* 

"Donna?" 

I’m playing with the cuff of my sweater, rolling it between my fingers. It’s very soft, comforting. The monotony of this is keeping me from breaking down. 

"Donna." 

I look up, dragged out of my stupor. 

"Mrs. Bartlet. Hi." 

She sits next to me, She takes my hand that is compulsively touching my sweater, and holds it in her hands. "Hi, Donna. How are you?" she asks quietly. 

"I’m fine, ma’am." It is in this moment that I realize that I am ignoring the First Lady. "I’m holding up. Thank you for asking." Her hands are warm and comforting, and make me want my mother for the first time in a long time. 

"He’ll be out of surgery soon. It’s looking good. Routine. I’m confident that--" 

I interrupt her. "It’s been over thirteen hours of surgery, Mrs. Bartlet." 

A look crosses her face, and she stares blankly at the wall for a moment. She gets up, and I’m too wary to be worried if I’ve offended her. 

She goes to the door, and speaks to the agent. "Ms. Moss needs some water and something to eat. Can you send someone? Thanks, Alan." 

She closes the door, slumps against it, closing her eyes. "Have you eaten recently?" 

I shake my head, no. "Thank you for that, but I’m not really hungry." 

She opens her eyes and looks directly into mine. "Donna, there’s no need for starvation." She walks over to the chairs, and sits next to me once again. 

"Honestly, ma’am, I’m fine," I say. Knowing it’s a lie. Suddenly, something sparks in my brain. "Mrs. Bartlet, shouldn’t you be starting your day? It’s practically morning." 

She smiles. "It IS morning. Don’t worry about where I should be, dear. You’re not an assistant right now." 

"Right," I reply, shrugging off my jacket. I’ve been too warm for hours, but unable to move. 

"You should get some sleep," she offers. "There’s going to be work that needs to be done." She looks to me, but I can’t meet her eye. 

"Donna, it’s going to be okay. He’s in critical condition, but the surgery is progressing nicely. Trust me." She pats my knee. "I’m a thoracic surgeon. Did you know that?" 

"Yes, ma’am, I did," I tell her robotically. 

"Of course you do. I suppose it’s a part of your position to know... Donna, are you here with me?" 

I drag my eyes away from the floor. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Bartlet." 

"The reason I mention that I’m a thoracic surgeon is because I understand what’s going on. I could’ve performed the surgery. Which is not to say I would, but I could. And now I’m just babbling. I apologize." She looks around, and grasps the arms of her chair. "I’m only saying this to you, Donna. You and I are in this similar circumstance, and... doesn’t it just suck?" 

I close my eyes, and allow a half-smile on my face. I nod. 

She continued. "Jed and I aren’t getting any younger, and this reality is just unbearable. He is man who has spent his life fighting for this country and... he... he doesn’t need this on top of everything else." 

I look up and meet her eyes. "Everything else, ma’am?" 

She jerks her gaze away from me. "I just meant running the country. That’s it." 

I nod. "Mrs. Bartlet, do you need anything? Can I get you something?" I don’t want to move. I don’t want to breathe until I know that he is okay. But I ask her because that is my job. To serve at the pleasure of the President, and by extension, his wife. 

She runs her hands through her hair. "Absolutely not. I’m fine. Well, I’m exhausted and my husband just underwent surgery. Otherwise, I’m fine." She leans closer to me. "I’m going to ask you a question, and I’d like you to feel free to stay silent." 

Shifting in my chair, I become uneasy. "I doubt there is anything you can ask me that I would feel was--" 

"Are you dating Josh?" 

Well, there it is. Uneasiness floods my body. "No, umm, no," I stammer. "What makes you ask?" 

She rests her hand on top of mine. "I’m married to Jed, that’s why I’m still here. And I’m not trying to pry, well, maybe I am. But you’ve been here, in silence, without eating or sleeping. You’re a wreck. And I’m curious why you’re still here." 

I don’t know. I’m not sure when it happened or how it happened. But at some point, I slid into this relationship with him. We are not lovers, and we have never kissed -- never even shared a long embrace that would be considered inappropriate. 

We fell asleep together once. He barged into my room one night during the campaign, commandeered my TV, and fell into a deep, annoying sleep. Eventually, I drifted off. When I woke up, he was staring at me. During the night, he had somehow contorted around me, our bodies tangled together. "This is... uh... we better get up," were his suave words. 

When I first met him, I was intrigued. A large part of it was the way he looked at me. Like he was hungry. 

None of this is anything I’d like to discuss with Mrs. Bartlet. 

I open my mouth to speak without being sure of what I will say. 

"He would do the same for me," is what comes out. 

She squints at me, and smiles. "Donna, I have three daughters. Have you met them?" 

Confused, I reply, "Well, I’ve met Zoey, and I believe that I’ve--" 

"I know when I’m being told a partial truth. But. I prodded. I can’t get all the answers I want." 

The door opens, admitting one of his doctors. She walks in slowly, as if navigating through lava. I fear what she has to tell us, yet I need to know. 

Dr. Simons approaches us. "Mrs. Bartlet, Mr. Lyman is in stable condition. We were able to repair the artery by... " 

I tune them out. And I close my eyes. I’m not interested in the specifics; he is okay, and that is what matters. 

I pray. 

I pray for his body and soul. And I pray that I have the strength to help him. 

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I just can’t break down. I need to be strong. "May I go see him," I ask. 

Dr. Simons looks curiously at me, and cocks her head to the side. "I’m sorry, who are you?" 

My mouth opens, with no reply. Who am I? Who am I to him? I work for him. And I care for him. And I know his social security number to fill out forms, and I have a million anecdotes about him that no one knows. 

"I work for him. I’m his assistant." 

The doctor shakes her head. "I’m sorry, I’m not sure that I can--" 

"It’s fine," Mrs. Bartlet interjects. "She can go in. She’s been here the whole night." 

"No, ma’am, that’s not it. Mr. Lyman is not quite ready for visitors. He’s still pretty out of it." Dr. Simons offers me a sympathetic smile. "You’ll have to wait a bit longer, I’m afraid." She gets up, and begins her exit to the door. 

"Doctor," I gasp. She turns. "I’d like to see him. Just for a moment." 

"I don’t think that--" 

I stand. "I need to see him. Please." 

She looks around, her eyes landing on the First Lady. Mrs. Bartlet shrugs. "She needs to see him. Go ahead, Donna." 

I run out of the room. 

******** 

That can’t be him. 

He is silent. 

The room is still, and I feel like I’m all alone in the room. Of course, that’s not true. He’s here, but I can barely feel his presence. 

I can always feel his presence. 

I approach the bed slowly, wanting to touch him and yet scared he’ll break into a thousand pieces. I’m scared to breathe on him the wrong way. 

The night we fell asleep together, during the campaign, I woke up to his hot breath on my cheek. It was a bizarre feeling, but not one that was completely unpleasant. 

In fact, it was quite pleasant. 

I looked into his face as slept, and had this complete sense of comfort. 

But now. Watching him... 

I look up at the ceiling, blinking furiously, willing tears to stop forming. "Josh," I whisper. 

There are so many things I want to tell you. Things that I have saved up in my brain, things I would never say out loud. But I almost lost you. And there are... things that you should know. There are some things I haven’t ever tried to put into words, and things that I haven’t fully processed. 

I almost lost you. 

I touch his arm softly, just my fingertips at first. Then I lay my hand on his arm. 

Inside I feel like I’m falling a part. 

"Excuse me." A voice startles me, and I turn to look. "Oh, miss, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... you’ve been waiting all night." 

Without removing my hand from his arm, I wipe under my eyes with my thumb. "I just needed to see him," I say. 

"Mrs. Lyman, it’s fine, really." 

I look down at him. He has tubes running across his face and under his chin. And although I’m touching his arm, I still can’t feel him. In some other situation, I would be mocking him for this hospital gown, but seeing as... 

Mrs. Lyman? 

I turn my head towards the doctor. "No. I’m not... his wife." 

The doctor smiles. "When he wakes up, maybe that’s something you two can talk about." He checks the chart, and looks over to me. "How long have you two been together?" he asks. 

I manage a small smile. "We’re not..." I trail off. And pause. "Two years. Well, it depends who you ask although technically it was two years ago in February. Not April. He can’t read a calendar without my help." 

I’m mocking a man who’s under anesthesia. To another man who I do not know. 

"Sorry, I’m... nervous. When will he be awake?" 

The doctor looks around at the machines, and then he looks to me. "Soon. Take care, miss," he says, walks out, leaving me alone in the room. 

Alone with him once again. I take my other hand, and lightly run it across his stubble. I look into his face, and I feel so apprehensive. Like if I take my eyes off of him, he might disappear. 

I want him to open his eyes and look at me. And I want him to smile. 

The door opens, and this time I hear it. "Donna," the President says quietly. I withdraw my hands from his face and arm, and turn towards President Bartlet. He looks older, as if he aged a decade in the past hours. Leo walks in behind him, and they come to either side of me. 

"How’s our boy doing?" Leo asks. 

"I think he’s doing well. A doctor came in, said he’ll be awake soon." 

The President nods, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his robe. "Dr. Rhodes let us know. He’s very taken with Josh’s girlfriend. ‘Babbles in an affectionate way,’ I think that’s what he said." 

I blush. "Sir, he was confused. I let him know that--" 

He looks at me. "Donna. That’s okay. I’m glad you were here for him." 

Leo touches my elbow. "I think they’re going to be waking him up in a bit. Let the President visit with him for a bit. We’ll come get you." 

I nod. Because that’s what I do. I’m polite. I’m an assistant. I serve at the-- 

Screw that. At least, right now. 

"I’d rather stay here," I say. 

Leo looks to the President. In turn, he looks to me. "Donna. I understand that," he replies softly. "But we’ll need you to just wait outside for a moment. His doctor’s will come in, and you can see him right after." 

"But why--" I start. And then, I stop. I just talked back to the President. Even in this state, I am becoming slowly embarrassed. "I’m sorry, sir. I’ll just be outside." I walk out the doors, and sink down into the nearest plastic chair. 

I hope he’s awake soon. 

******* 

"Miss." The doctor from before, Dr. Rhodes, touches my shoulder. "We’re moving him to a private room. 314. You’re welcome to--" 

"Thank you," I toss over my shoulder as a I dash down the hall. 

******* 

He’s alone again, in this room. But this time, I can feel him all around me. There’s a chair by the wall, and I drag it over to the bed, and situate myself near his head. The chair is loud and skids against the floor. I look around to see if there’s a blanket and extra pillow anywhere. I’m not going anywhere today, so I might as well-- 

"Donna." 

I whip my head around, and look into Josh’s eyes, his head turned just so slightly to me. I open my mouth but... no sound. 

"You woke me up." 

I do something very uncharacteristic of myself. I take his hand in mine, and lay my head on his forearm. And cry. 

"Donna," he says again. I look up into his pale face. "You look like shit, Donna." His voice is raspy, strained. 

I smile. And strangely enough, my smile spreads and I’m grinning at him. He’s still looking into my eyes. 

"I can’t tell you, Josh, how... I just..." I don’t know what to say. I stroke his cheek instead. I keep touching him until his eyes begin to close. 

I keep holding onto his hand. I sink back into my chair, and watch him sleep. He’s breathing steadily, this man who fights so hard for everything he does. 

I watch him sleep, and breathe. I have nowhere else to be. 


End file.
